


Painting Piero

by i_was_you



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 15:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3574419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_was_you/pseuds/i_was_you
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Paint me like one of your Tyvian girls." </p><p>Smut ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painting Piero

“Will you paint me like one of your Tyvian girls?”

Piero settled nervously on the edge of the sofa. Sokolov looked up from his sketchpad and raised raised an eyebrow. "My Tyvian girls were a lot less dressed," he said dryly, and continued shading the vase he'd been drawing. For a moment everything was quiet save for the scritches of his pencil.

Piero sighed sighed and rose. There was a soft rustle as he took off his coat and settled it on the back of of a vacant chair. Sokolov glanced up from his drawing. Piero was fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, slowly opening them them to reveal a white undershirt. So many layers! Sokolov shook his head and focused on the vase once more.

Well, tried to focus, anyway. Piero’s reflection was quite distracting now that he was in his underwear, his skin a bit too pale and a delightful blush spreading on his cheeks. "Off with those, too," Sokolov said and waved his pencil at the remaining clothes. He didn't didn't have to look at Piero to know that the man would swallow and bite his chapped lower lip at the request before slowly slipping the undershirt over his head. Despite the difficulty, Sokolov forced himself to concentrate on the flowery pattern of the vase - Piero was uncomfortable enough stripping in front of him without leering.

"I'm ready now..." Piero's voice was barely above a whisper. He lounged on the sofa, blushing, a hand modestly covering himself. He had kept his eyeglasses on. Sokolov rolled his eyes and grabbed a new sheet of paper. Piero was not what anyone would call handsome - bony and flabby, sparsely haired and pale - but nevertheless the sight was something that made Sokolov's heart beat a little faster, something that made him warm all over.

"Put that hand on your hip instead," he instructed. At Piero's annoyed look he explained, "it will look better. More balanced." For a moment the two of them stared at each other, then Piero conceded and let his arm relax along his side. Sokolov nodded, stroking his beard, and started sketching Piero’s likeness on the paper. He enjoyed the way the light fell upon Piero’s form, and the quiet of the atelier, and the look on Piero’s face that betrayed happiness mixed with nervousness. Piero was a skittish man, rarely at ease except when working on some invention, but Sokolov could see how the line of Piero’s shoulders slowly relaxed, how a slight smile formed upon Piero’s thin lips. It was the small things he wanted to capture; the way Piero’s eyes shone when their gazes met, for example. The way worried creases on his face smoothed momentarily. The way Piero blushed, when - oh. Being under scrutiny was something Piero clearly found exciting.

Piero’s face was crimson, and he looked down. “I didn’t mean to--”

“Shush. That’s an entirely natural reaction,” Sokolov said smirking, glad that the drawing pad was in firmly in front of him. He had to take a little breath; he had dreamt about this. “Touch yourself.”

Piero looked sideways at Sokolov and grinned. “Oh? Won’t this make the pose unbalanced?” He asked, hand snaking down to his hardness, a damned knowing smile on his flushed face.

Sokolov only snorted and hid behind the drawing pad. He could feel a pink tinge on his cheeks. For a moment he gathered himself - nerves and will of steel, Anton, remember those - before he glanced again at Piero.

Piero lay on the sofa eyes closed. His hands were now on himself, gently fondling his member. Little gasps escaped from the back of his throat. Piero was not a large man, nor especially imposing, but the sight nevertheless dried Sokolov’s mouth. “What are you thinking of?” He managed as he drew the line of Piero’s arm.

“You. Always you,” came the breathless reply. Sokolov’s drawing hand froze and he swallowed. He stared, now. Piero panted; he must be close, Sokolov realised. His own trousers were uncomfortably tight and he felt warm, his heart hammered faster and faster along with Piero's breaths.

Finally Piero's brow furrowed and he let out a quiet moan. He came over his fingers and thighs, making Sokolov want to lick them clean. The pad and the pencil in hand, he rose, and in a couple of strides he was by Piero's side. Piero opened his eyes and looked shyly, coyly at Sokolov and chuckled as Sokolov bent over him and kissed his lips.

Piero's clean hand brushed the front of Sokolov's trousers. "You liked it, didn't you?" The older scientist groaned as Piero caressed him through the fabric. Before he could say anything intelligible, Piero had opened the trousers and coaxed Sokolov out. Then he leaned forwards. Sokolov couldn't help whining in a most embarrassing manner as Piero’s warm mouth engulfed as much of him as possible. Piero made up in playfulness and enthusiasm what he lacked lacked in finesse and technique. He couldn't take all of Sokolov's length in without gagging, but by the Outsider he tried, and that was just too endearing.

Sokolov had been near his crisis already, so it took a scant few moments of Piero's tongue playing on him before he touched the man's shoulder. "Piero, I'm--" The man glanced up, a wicked look on his face, and swirled his tongue over the head of Sokolov's member.

Sokolov growled and came into Piero's mouth. Piero coughed and shook his head, Sokolov's erection slipping out of his mouth. Sokolov petted his hair, smoothing an errant lock away from his face, and Piero looked at him. "Well?" There was a hint of smugness in his murmuring voice.

"That was... I need to draw you more often."


End file.
